


Strangers Again?

by becka



Category: BBC Radio 1 RPF, One Direction (Band)
Genre: Ficlet, M/M, Past Relationship(s), Sad
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-02-19
Updated: 2020-02-19
Packaged: 2021-02-26 12:43:57
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 365
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/22803091
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/becka/pseuds/becka
Summary: Nick and Harry at the BRITS 2020.
Comments: 8
Kudos: 39





	Strangers Again?

He used to count the number of days since the last time they kissed. He kept it tallied on the last page of a notebook, and he thought he’d use it in a song someday. Maybe he’d save it up until he hit some good number, 666 or 1000 or something. But he lost track at some point last year and the next time he saw a picture of Nick with his boyfriend, he didn’t rush to figure out the count again. That day he scribbled over the tally and wrote “GROWTH” in block letters at the bottom of the page, and he tries not to think about it anymore.

They don’t talk much now, even though Harry’s been in London more and he could come round for tea or even lurk in the back of the studio sometime. There’s no excuse. Except that Harry feels sickly certain he’ll become something monstrous if he spends too long in the company of Nick and Mesh’s easy domesticity. He’ll snap and be rude or smash something or yell, even though there isn’t that vice around his heart all the time anymore. He draws pictures of werewolves in the margins of his current notebook, but then he makes himself laugh with a metaphor about Nick as the full moon and the idea drops some of its teeth.

At the Brits it’s been months since they’ve seen each other, although they’ve talked some. They breathed shakily down the phone at each other on Saturday, and Nick said, “I know, love,” and it was important that someone did. Tonight they share pleasantries and Sara coos over Harry’s outfit, and it could be any year, except that it’s this one and Harry’s hand lingers on Nick’s shoulder like it’s got more to say even if Harry’s mouth doesn’t.

“Come round sometime,” Nick says kindly, with tiny new lines at the corners of his eyes (or maybe not new and it’s just been a long time since Nick smiled at him properly). “I mean it, Harold. Don’t be a stranger.”

Harry nods. He never wanted to be a stranger in the first place. He just didn’t know how to be anything else.


End file.
